Devotion
by suckersoprano
Summary: Rick considers breaking up with his current relationship several times while they're together. Only once did he actually go through with it.
1. Time

Rick sat back in his cubicle, flicking small crumpled up balls of paper at the wastebasket thoughtfully. Every so often his mouth would dip lower and his eyebrows would knit; the serious expression betrayed the whimsical activity of miming a free throw with unused paper. The wrinkled paper bounced off the edge again and he swore something colorful under his breath. Clearly whatever was on his mind both concerned him and didn't bother him at all. And it was both serious and something he was intimately familiar with.

To say he had a reputation around the office for his dating habits was an understatement. Absolutely no one expected big, boasting, ladies' man Rick to start dating Craig of all people. Fussy Craig the archivist with his polished, gleaming glasses and his condescending stare. Hell, Rick hadn't expected it either, but he usually just fell into these things. He was a master of going with the flow, really. The opportunity presented itself and they both went for it, so here they were. After two months, however shocking that might sound to anyone in the office. Though, it wasn't so much shocking to Rick as inevitable. The relationship was reaching a familiar place, one he was so familiar with that this very talk gave him déjà vu; it just took longer this time. He wasn't a man who kept a close eye on numbers, but he knew his record for a relationship was one year. He was a twenty-nine year old man and that year long relationship was back in high school. The second longest was six months, happened only three times because the sex was particularly good.

Bottom line, he wasn't a commitment sort of man. Recently, he'd had a lot of 'flings'—relationships that barely lasted two weeks, which is what he expected out of his and Craig's… whatever it was they had. Now they were way past that mark, but at the one he anticipated after a week or so.

Rick scooped up another crumpled paper and overhanded it to the trash, fist pumping when it neatly landed in the basket. With that scrap of satisfaction, he could wonder just what bothered him about all that; was it something with Craig or was it the _time_? All he really knew is that the intense desire to turn tail and run was starting to bubble up in his chest. It was kind of confusing for him; the sex was good when Craig actually wanted it. They argued, but that didn't change from before and sometimes it made the sex _great._ Dating another man didn't bother him too much, though there were some female coworkers that were gossiping about the disappointment of the 'office rocking horse' batting for the other team. Not even that bugged him; if they were that close-minded, they could continue to be gossip-hounds the hell away from him.

Maybe it was how closed off Craig was. Emotionally speaking. Rick wasn't afraid to admit he was a physical kind of person, in both the sense in innuendo and the literal sense. He liked touch, plainly put. Even simple things like holding hands, cuddling, and all manner of non-sexual contact were things he wanted, things he needed. Craig wasn't much for that.

Maybe, just maybe it was better to cut things off now while they were okay-ish, he thought to himself. Wouldn't be a messy breakup, easy explanation; they just weren't suited for each other, they were too different. They had different styles and wanted different things in a relationship. Rick made up his mind; he asked Craig to come eat lunch with him today anyway. He'd do it then, nice and quick-like.

That was a productive little think right there, he congratulated himself mentally. Rick scooped the rest of the paper balls into the trash and turned back to his desk to finish up whatever it was he was supposed to be doing before lunch. Some report, nothing major or pressing in the least. The idle tap of keyboard keys covered up footsteps behind him until two skinny arms looped around his neck.

"Caught you, adventure man," a small voice said behind him, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

Rick froze and couldn't help but smile like a loon. Of course he knew who that was; Craig used to call him that in a way less friendly tone.

"No one hangin' round in th'office?" he murmured, bringing his hands up to squeeze Craig's forearms.

"Not a soul," the blond confirmed.

"All out t'lunch?"

"Mmhm."

"C'mere an' gimme a damn smooch then," Rick laughed, swinging his desk chair around.

All plans for breaking things off went straight out the window when Craig actually climbed into the bigger man's lap and kissed him hard. It caught Rick so off guard, it made him think about just _what_ it was he and Craig wanted. Maybe it wasn't so different after all. The way the normally reserved man pressed against him right now made him so giddy, breaking things off was out of the question.


	2. Jealousy

It was another three months before Rick thought about breaking up with his boyfriend again. This time, he was pacing outside of a bar, deep in thought. Only half of which had to do with the problem; the other thoughts had to do with wishing he were a smoker. Then he might be calm and all the _rest_ of the bar patrons outside wouldn't be staring at him strangely.

It was cold and he had his hands jammed into a big fur-lined leather jacket for the early November weather. The very first signs of frost started to nip at the night and consequently at Rick's nose and cheeks. They were already red from anger anyway, he barely noticed aside from how frozen his hands felt. He clenched and unclenched his fists inside of his pockets, whipping around to march another lap around the back alley of the bar.

Even outside felt stifling, he felt trapped and _that_ was exactly what brought him to thinking about breaking up with Craig. Just ending it because he felt so _crowded_ dammit!

In all honesty, Rick should have told that lady he was taken before she thought it was a good idea to drape her drunk self all over his lap. By no means was it necessary for Craig to get rough with her, though. They were about the same height, which probably contributed to the confused stare the woman gave him. She probably had some bruises on her upper arm where Craig pulled her away, but she was smashed enough she might not remember. Thankfully for Craig, but it made Rick more than a little angry. Especially after Craig gave him an accusatory glare and a snide remark that Rick couldn't even remember anymore. Did Craig seriously think he would _cheat_ on him like that? That stupidly!

What really got him the most was feeling like someone thought they had a hold on him. He didn't belong to _anyone_. Now this skinny little asshole he _thought_ was a pretty decent guy is trying to sink his claws into him, just who the fuck did he think he was?!

Nothing really felt very logical right now, but it made him feel antsy and angry. That's all that mattered, that's why he had to go back in there and tell him this wasn't working out. Without another second thought, Rick turned back into the bar—and stopped dead in his tracks.

From the back door entrance, Rick could see the table he and Craig had picked. The jacket Craig had brought was still slung around the chair, but Rick couldn't see his smaller boyfriend because there was a stocky sort of gent blocking the view. Immediately, unconsciously, Rick was comparing himself to this guy. He was taller, but they both hard dark hair; he couldn't see his face, but the already alcohol-fueled irrational trains of thought said he was going to be a helluva lot better looking. This new guy was leaning over the table, really _too_ close to where Rick could see Craig's legs. They were in sort of a defensive 'go away' position that Rick had seen himself too many times before.

All thoughts of Craig's jealous and possessive display earlier were tossed right out the window. This guy was bugging _his_ boyfriend and Rick was not going to sit by and just let it happen. Patrons of the bar stared at him as the dark-haired man snarled and cracked the knuckles on both hands. A raging storm of jealousy and leather stomped up to the table and the rest was quite a bit of a blur.

"HEY, you _asshole_, gerroffa him!" he slurred, fists swinging at this shorter guy before the bastard realized what was happening.

"RICK!" Craig cried, "Stop that, don't fight!"

"Woah, buddy, I didn't kno—OW!"

The asshole didn't get much time to even protest before Rick socked him clean in the mouth. Wood squealed across the entire bar as everyone got up to see the ruckus as the man bugging Craig fell into the table, tossing their drinks across the floor. Craig stared at his obviously drunk boyfriend, pink eyes wide as the whole bar erupted into a fight.

Rick took a moment of clarity to stand in front of his very vertically challenged boyfriend. The bartenders were shouting and Rick could swear he heard sirens, more than he could hear the angry swearing from behind him. It didn't matter if Craig was bitching him out, that fucker wouldn't mess with who Rick was with for a _long, long_ time. He made a point of punching him again, just to make sure he would turn the other way if he ever saw Craig again.

Soon, there were arrests being made and Craig was shoving him out the door as fast as his skinny arms could. By some miracle of god, they avoided being seen and had to _run_ away from the bar as fast as possible. No one was behind them, there was no shouting for them to stop, just the sound of their shoes hitting pavement.

Craig yanked him in to an alleyway half a mile away, panting heavily. It was almost guaranteed that the blond would lecture him to hell and back when he caught his breath, Rick would've put money on it. Craig forgot his jacket at the bar and when he could breathe again, Rick dumped his own heavy leather jacket around his thin shoulders. The look on his spectacled face was so mystified and almost exhilarated that he didn't expect the hot, heavy kiss in the middle of that alleyway.

His teeth dug into Rick's lip and their tongues slid together. If Rick had been less drunk, he might have tried to keep things going. The only thought that he really had that was even partly sensible was Craig didn't seem mad about that whole bar fighting incident. Weird.

The next thought was how much of an idiot he was for thinking of breaking it off about something he was guilty of himself. Hell, he just trashed a whole fucking bar because of it.

Alcohol will do that to you, he supposed.

Craig almost smiled at him, "You have a split lip, you reckless blowhard," he pointed out, swiping his thumb across the trail of blood.

His tone of voice wasn't harsh; it was almost teasing. Rick grinned at him and they had to walk the rest of the way home. Bruised, bleeding and cold, at least they were hand-in-hand.


	3. Forgotten

"…Hey Wheats," Rick called across the hall to his gangly friend Alvin Wheatley.

"Mmyeah?"

Didn't even bother to look up, that ass, "Y'ever have this weird nagging feelin' in th'back'a yer skull? Like y'forgot somethin' or another."

Finally, the ginger swung around in his office chair to scratch his chin thoughtfully, "Can't say I have, mate," he adjusted his glasses and glanced at the time.

Rick wasn't surprised; Wheats was as thick as they came. Last time he could remember the British man with a girlfriend, he couldn't figure out the poor lady was angry at him even after she explicitly told him to his face three times. It was probably a bad idea to ask him if he could help Rick figure out why his mind was nagging at him to remember something.

"Eh, it's… prob'ly nothin' big," Rick shrugged.

"This'll probably not help _whatsoever_, but I always check the date. Then I find I forgot a doctor's appointment or something of the like," Wheatley shrugged and went right back to typing.

That was… surprisingly helpful, despite what he had tried to say. Rick pulled up the date on his work desktop. It read 'May 12th' and gave him no other indication what might be today. Annoyed, he sat back and chewed the corner of his thumb in perturbed thought. May 12th should sound familiar, he thought to himself, should but _why._ No one he knew had a birthday this month. It wasn't a major holiday, but still, the date bugged him. Well, it was better than not having any lead whatsoever.

Oh well, maybe Craig would have an idea what it might be over lunch—Oh shit. Rick swore out loud and smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. It hit him what was bugging him about this damned date.

Fuck, Craig was going to kill him for letting their one year anniversary slip his mind. Fuck fuck fuck. It was already eleven. It was almost time to go find his partner and drag him out of the archive to eat. There was no time to try to salvage this, dammit! He'd have to play it cool and see what he could work out by the end of the day.

"Figured it out, thanks Wheats," he called to Alvin before slipping out of his cubicle.

"Er, you're welcome, mate!"

Rick didn't even turn to acknowledge him; his mind was already working over what exactly one did for an anniversary. Late last year, they had celebrated both his and Craig's birthday's, did they do something like that? Smaller, bigger, what? He was cussing himself out for the lack of relationship knowledge when he turned the corner to the archive.

Just as always, Craig was sitting at the desk. He was busily reapplying labels to a stack of books and didn't even look up when Rick came in. Perfect. The dark-haired man snuck his way around the desk and looped an arm around Craig's shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"Hey sweet-stuff," he began, acting all casual, "Happy anniversary."

Immediately, Craig's spine went ram-rod straight and he tensed up. Rick pulled away, curiously; had he hurt him somehow? Stiffly, the blond turned around and fussed with his glasses, pulling out a cloth to wipe them furiously.

"Ah. Hm. H-Happy anniversary," he murmured, refusing to meet Rick's eyes.

That was odd behavior. Craig didn't resist when Rick tilted his chin up. Rick searched his face and found a surprising amount of guilt there.

"S'matter, babe?"

"…First, promise you will not get upset with me," Craig qualified, worrying his bottom lip.

"Promise," he said without hesitation.

"I forgot."

For a long moment, Rick had no idea what Craig was talking about, he was that dumbstruck. His green eyes just bore holes in his face while he tried to decipher just what that meant. Then he laughed. Laughed so hard he nearly hit the floor with all of his weight, but managed to catch himself on the desk.

"What's so amusing?" Craig snapped, crossing his arms.

The amount of relief Rick felt from the pressure coming off was overwhelming, he scooped Craig off of his chair into a bear hug, still laughing. Any annoyance the blond had dissolved with the amount of affection Rick was giving him, pressing kisses along his jaw and mouth as he laughed. Once he put the smaller man down, he didn't let him go, keeping him close.

"Look here, sweets, I forgot, too," Rick explained, a great deal of mirth still in his voice.

Suddenly understanding, Craig bashfully laughed as well, "I… don't assume we're planning on anything big, then. It needn't be, just… for your information."

"Then let's stay in, yeah? Get ourselves a big case of somethin' and mebbe some takeout," he suggested.

"Sounds perfect," Craig agreed, letting his shoulders relax, "Now… we ought to get to lunch."

In the lunchroom, they discussed what sort of food they'd get and talked about old memories in their relationship. The time spent together was really relaxing and Rick can't remember seeing Craig laugh so hard in a long while.

For a very split second there, the both of them thought they had screwed up _real_ bad. Rick admired Craig for his honesty there and was surprised he was that laid back. This was the sort of thing he'd heard other couples break up over. He counted himself insanely lucky to have someone like Craig.


	4. Change

A very soft light was filtering through the curtains in Craig's condo. It was only a couple of minutes after sunrise, but the alarm Rick had set on his phone was blaring, making the man sit up straight in bed with a start. He exhaled a heavy, tired groan and fumbled for the cell to switch off the alarm. It was Monday. God, why couldn't it still be Sunday. Because he was at Craig's, he was forced to wake up a full forty-five minutes earlier than normal to get home and get ready for work. Even with that head start, he was usually late.

Not that he'd change a damn thing about his weekend plans. Even if it were Sunday and he vowed he'd go home before the night was through, he'd end up tangled in Craig's sheets, arm tossed over the other man's skinny waist anyway. The hadn't even had sex last night, he huffed to himself, rolling out of bed to find his clothes. Not that he was complaining. Hell, even if he knew that yesterday morning, he wouldn't have changed a damn thing.

All of his clothes were dumped on his side of Craig's bed, making the other man stir. Rick nearly swore; he was trying really hard not to wake him and got careless. The dark-haired man climbed into the bed, poised over his lover who was tiredly blinking up at him. Craig was never a morning person and honestly it was kind of cute. Sure, he was a grouch right after he got out of bed, but those few moments between waking and rising were really priceless to see. The blond limply tossed his arms around Rick's neck and tried to pull him closer. He was tired enough that Rick didn't budge, but the attempt was endearing. Rick leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth, making Craig turn for another, full on the mouth. The kind of kiss that lingered and easily melted Rick right back into the bed with the feel of Craig's lips and tongue trying to pull him in.

Once the kiss was broken, Craig lazily pressed a few more into Rick's rough morning stubble, "You know," he mumbled, voice a little hoarse from sleep, "If you lived here, you wouldn't have to rush out so early."

For a split second, Rick paid no mind to what Craig said, enjoying the attention. Then the weight of the words Craig just said in a tired stupor hit him like a ton of bricks. He pulled away from Craig's grasp to stare with pure incredulous disbelief. What the _hell_ was he suggesting? There wasn't any other way to interpret that; it sounded a hell of a lot like Craig was talking about moving in together.

"Wh... what are y'talkin' 'bout, sweetheart?" Rick tried tentatively, completely on unfamiliar ground.

Craig made an annoyed tired noise and turned slightly to curl up on his pillow, "I don't know why you haven't brought up just staying here with me... I live closer to work and you wouldn't be late _every_ Monday."

For a second, Rick completely forgot that he needed to get to work and he just sat in the pile of sheets and blankets with a dumbfounded look on his face. Eventually the clock chirped and Rick had to race out of there. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Craig's temple while the other man slept.

"I'll... I'll think on it, babe, promise," he whispered, trying not to wake him.

The entire way driving back to his apartment was full of odd thoughts of just what this would mean. The man was so distracted that he nearly got into an accident and ran a red light. The key he tried using to open the building was the one for his door and he did it again when he got up to his apartment.

Inside, it took him ten minutes to make coffee because he forgot how to use his own machine. The only shirt he had to wear was wrinkled and he was missing all of his ties—which took him another ten minutes to realize they were all hidden in various parts of Craig's room. His shower was freezing cold because he hadn't used his water in three days and he was completely out of shampoo. By the time he was rushing to grab a cup of coffee, he realized he was completely out of sugar. God! It was like he didn't even _live _here! Craig would have had three types of sugar and at least two types of creamer, the man loved his coffee.

Rick was so out of his that he had to go through his clothes hamper to find his car keys again. By the time he realized he'd forgotten his jacket, he was halfway down the stairs. Just how fed up could this building _MAKE_ him before he just _stayed_ at Craig's—That's when it hit him.

The drive to work was a lot calmer. He was already late, there was no saving it. It gave him a moment to think about just what he'd realized jogging back to get his coat. He considered Craig's condo way more of a home than his own apartment. He'd gotten used to Craig's love of coffee and his anal tendencies to keep stocked on toiletries. Hell, every time they leaved to go on a date, Craig went through a mental checklist and rarely forgot anything after he left the door. That was the sort of level-headed thinking that Craig approached with for everything. Little did Rick know he'd come to rely on it as well. Most importantly... he could be with Craig more.

He'd really like that. Even if they were fighting, Rick couldn't get enough of his company. For a terrifying second, he thought maybe Craig didn't actually want this. Maybe he was just teasing him or some other stupid banter-related shit. Maybe Rick was just inviting a whole lot of serious argument into their relationship.

Work showed up much sooner than he was expecting. He had to veer through two lanes of traffic to make sure he got into the parking lot. With heavy thoughts, both positive and negative weighing him down, he walked into the building with his hands dug into his pockets and his shoulders hunched up.

He'd been Craig a while now and he knew he wanted to spend more time with him. This would be the best way, with both of their schedules. Craig was right; it would just make things easier. Surprisingly, no one was waiting to chew him out at his desk, but Craig sat at his with a smug smile, like a little devil trying to hide his horns.

Unable to help a smile, Rick leaned over the wall of Craig's cubicle, "What didja do, huh?"

"I told Gladys that you were having some car troubles," the blond replied primly, not once looking up from his keyboard.

If that wasn't the hundredth time he'd said that... Rick was beginning to wonder just what kind of car Gladys though he drove. Some piece of shit, clearly. He owed Craig one for that, he knew his sneaky little boyfriend would just let it go like that. ...Although...

He did kind of have a trump card here, "Hey, sweet-stuff, y'know, I've been thinkin' 'bout whatcha said this mornin'..."

Now Craig looked up, peering at the bigger man with uncertainty, "Yes?"

"Are y'sure?"

"It's okay if you don't-"

"Nah, didn't say that. 'm askin' if _you're_ sure."

Craig sighed and slipped his glasses off of his nose, cleaning them with a cloth from his shirt pocket. It was a gesture that Rick was familiar with; one that meant the man was anxious and needed to fiddle with something or go nuts. Well, looks like he wasn't just teasing.

"I'm... I'm sure, yes," he said finally, trying to make it seem less than it was with his tone.

When Craig replaced his glasses, Rick was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. It almost made the smaller man shrink down into his seat. He shouldn't have asked, he was certain of this. Well, he _was_ until Rick glanced at him with that twinkle in his eye that meant he was being an absolute _ass._ The dark-haired man leaned over the wall as best he could, getting in close to Craig's desk.

"So, if I say 'yeah', when can I move in my stuff?" he murmured, playing up his flair of the dramatic.

"Ridiculous blowhard," Craig hissed back in jest, sitting up to throw his arms around the other man's neck again, "This next weekend."

With that decided, they exchanged a furtive and chaste kiss before they got caught and chewed out by their boss. All through that day, people told him he was being especially cheerful. He just laughed and didn't bother to tell them why.


	5. Discovery

"Craig, where th'hell didja leave them goddamn W-2s?!" Rick called over his shoulder, digging through a box where he knew they probably weren't.

It was April. April the twelfth, in fact and Rick had procrastinated doing his taxes since the day they came in the mail, right up to the condo where he and Craig lived. When his overly-informed by-the-book boyfriend found out that Rick spent a lot of money letting someone _else_ figure out his taxes, he swore he'd help the man figure it out and made him promise not to spend another dime at one of those tax filing places. That was the first year Rick moved in and now he was going on... sixth? Seventh? He couldn't remember but Craig 'helping him figure it out' meant that he would sit him down with the books and wait for Rick to ask questions.

Not terribly helpful.

"They're in the filing cabinet!" Rick heard Craig call back from the kitchen.

Not terribly helpful _either._

Rick sighed and looked up at the freakishly neat filing cabinet that was a couple of feet ahead of him. Of course it was in there, why wouldn't it be? Oh, maybe because Rick hadn't _put it there?_ He knew it was another of Craig's habits to keep things tidy. Rick suddenly felt a little bad because that meant he left his tax info somewhere just lying around, making a mess. He approached the cabinet to see labels on all three drawers: 'Identifying Information', 'Legal Paperwork', and 'Money.'

Ah, there it was. Probably. Rick crouched down to the bottom drawer and pulled it open to find the damn thing full to the brim with all sorts of bullshit. Thankfully, most if it was in marked folders, so he could at least go by that. Lo and behold, 'Tax Information' was marked by year. He had to pull all the folders back to get to the current year; it took him a second, but they were all pushed to the front, allowing him access to the year he wanted—and the bottom of the filing cabinet.

Normally that wouldn't be important, if Rick hadn't noticed a slip of paper on the bottom of the drawer. He carefully pulled the paper out and inspected the front and back. The front was marked with the name of a bank—one he and Craig didn't use, since they long since started using a joint account. The name on the slip was Craig's. And the date was pretty recent, it looked like it was a balance inquiry—Woah.

"The hell is Craig doin' with almost ten grand jus' sittin' around?" he murmured to himself, glancing at the back of the slip.

In Craig's neat, spidery script, there was a note: _Only use in case of dire emergency._ There were two long numbers which Rick could only assume were the account and routing numbers, just in case they were forgotten. Though, he didn't care so much about the numbers or the amount—It was the note that was picking away at his brain. He and Craig already had a pretty good emergency fund in case something really terrible happened. A car accident, an illness, in case one or both of them lost their job...

If this account was really for emergencies, wouldn't he want to add it to the already decent amount they already had? Not that Rick had an issue with Craig having his own money; if that's all it was, that was his business. He was more than willing to respect the other man's space... when it wasn't, y'know, physical space. Craig never seemed to mind that, though. Was this a sign that Craig didn't think Rick would respect that was his and his alone?

This was beginning to really trouble him; he frowned deeply and went through the tax folder to yank out what he wanted. He took the W-2s and the bank slip upstairs, intending on talking to Craig about it. Just to ease his own worries, nothing more than that.

Once he was out of the basement, he headed back to their makeshift office, where Craig was in the office chair, knees pulled up to his chin while he stared at new tax regulations and filing rules. Rick shook his head a little, he didn't understand how in the hell anyone could stay awake even looking at these books. Craig was absorbing as much of the information as he could, just like a little damn encyclopedia. Trick was pulling him out of whatever he was reading.

"Hey, angel, I found somethin' while lookin' for all them godamn papers. Wanted t'ask ya about'em," he attempted, holding up the bank slip in case Craig looked.

Surprisingly enough, he did. Craig's pink eyes took a moment to focus on the slip of paper the bigger man was holding. Another to read what it said... His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. That was not the expression he was expecting Craig to make.

"Where did you find that?" Craig snapped, setting the book down to reach for the slip.

That wasn't what Rick expected to hear, either. All the bad feelings regarding that damn slip started to bubble back up. Still, he let Craig grab the slip from his hand and watched as the blond's eyebrows knit in anger over it.

"I wasn't snoopin', in case you were wonderin'," Rick defended himself quickly, "But... what in the hell is all of that?"

A little of the annoyance seeped out of the smaller man, but he still flipped the paper to show the backside, "Emergencies," he said simply.

"Okay, I know that's bullshit, since we got mebbe half that sittin' in th'bank right now," Rick said, feeling his voice rise.

"This account is not a 'we' account, if you couldn't read while you were prying into my things," Craig seethed, his tone taking on a lot of venom fast.

"Look, I don't give a fuck if ya have it or not, but yer startin' t'freak me out, pinky. What. The hell. Is that for?!" Rick fully yelled and immediately regretted it.

"It's MY emergency fund just in case you decide to tear my life apart! Just in case you decide you can't stay with me and that you are _done_ with someone you'd spent so much time with!" Craig snarled, but the words tumbled right out of his mouth in a hurry.

There was some unexpected silence hung in the room. Rick's mouth hung open and he looked legitimately pained. That cut a lot deeper than anything he'd been imagining. Neither one of them moved and Craig eventually calmed down, looking like he just blasphemed. Suddenly the toes of his socks were very interesting and Rick rubbed his chin, realizing what this was about.

"...You don't trust me," he finally said, relatively quiet, "I have been with ya for... what issit now, eight years an' y'still think 'm gonna run out on ya?"

"It's... It's not like that, It's just...," Craig attempted, but even he didn't have anything to say for himself.

The fact that he couldn't even deny it—Rick looked away, focusing on breathing steadily so he didn't get angry again. All of this was abrupt, painful information. Your boyfriend thinks you'll run out on him, break his heart and leave him with nothing but the pieces. The dark-haired man had to wrap his arm around his stomach, he was starting to feel sick.

"Craig, look here, I _love_ ya. I am pretty goddamn sure that I can say that one hundred percent," Rick said evenly, managing to keep his cool, "But 'm sorry, if I hafta be with someone who ain't gonna trust me for shit, I dunno if I can keep doin' this."

Fully expecting a rant about how all his suspicions were right, Rick didn't bother to look at the blond while he said it. This wasn't because he was flighty or because he was looking to do Craig wrong. No. Craig had admitted to something really serious and hurtful. Something that was essentially a lie in their very long time together.

"...I understand," Craig breathed, so quiet that the other man almost missed it.

At that Rick looked up, but Craig was pulling himself out of the chair and moving down the hall. In the back of his head, he figured Craig needed some time to himself, so he didn't bother following—until he heard the front door close and Craig's car start. Rick jogged to the window to see the white sedan pulling out of their driveway.

He just leaves? Rick pressed his head against the glass and tries to think back to all the breakups he had nearly a decade ago. Were they all this easy? Did they just... happen? What he didn't expect was a panic-like blanket of absolute emotional agony to cover him. His other arm wrapped around himself and he walked back to the desk, glancing at the W-2s like they were the source of this. Curiously, the bank slip was missing. Good, or he might have tried to destroy it.

Rick started to drag himself to the bedroom, but changed his mind and sat on their couch. He held the remote at some point, but never turned on the TV. Finally, his mind decided to give him a rest and he fell asleep.


	6. Recovery

The house was still pretty goddamn lonely when Rick woke up. It wasn't very big, but it still kind of echoed wherever he moved. After a nap, he was a little more clear-headed and after a bite to eat, he realized this whole thing was really fucking stupid. The reality was setting in and worry was starting to gnaw at his stomach again.

Gingerly, he went to find his phone. It was late at night, just past ten. He had no calls or messages, but that was expected. Disappointing, but expected. He pulled up Craig's number and pressed the call button, leaning against the kitchen counter with his foot tapping impatiently. Jesus he hoped Craig was alright. The man wasn't known for impulsive decisions, but when they happened, they were big. He'd impulsively left the house, now god only knew what he was up to.

'_Hello, you have reached the voice mail of Craig-'_ Rick cut the call.

No answer didn't make him feel much better. Idly, he considered calling their friends to see if he'd gone to see any of them. Though, if Craig went to see _his_ friends, it wasn't likely they would tell him the truth. Rick fumed and raked his hand through his hair, trying to think without overreacting. He could go out and _look_ for him, but that would be a long, fruitless search. There were a good thirty-six hours before he could file a missing persons report. He genuinely hoped to god it wouldn't come to that.

All he really could do was pace around the house and try to reason out what he was going to say when Craig came back. If he came back—_No._ _When_, he comes back.

Trust had to be earned, it couldn't just be given. Rick knew this and didn't know why the hell he couldn't remember it when he was yelling about it earlier. Craig held out this long, why the fuck couldn't he shut his own damn mouth. Nothing he said was untrue, of course. He loved Craig, that wasn't a question. A lot of times their relationship scared the _shit_ out of him because it was tumbling in that direction, but Rick kept going and never looked back... until the next time he doubted.

As much as he tried to tell himself that it was reasonable, he couldn't help but blame those doubts on why Craig didn't trust him. All problems were two-person problems, weren't they? Ugh, he was starting to sound like a self-help book and if Rick was something, it wasn't a healthy relationship expert. Still, he had to meet the other man halfway if they wanted this to—The sound of a familiar engine pulled up to the house. Rick forgot everything he was thinking and charged for the door.

He got as far as swinging open their front entrance—Craig was standing there, a little shocked the door opened on it's own. Then he saw Rick and was even more shocked. They stared for a moment, Rick's gaze taking on an intense feel while Craig's was wide, pink, and vaguely scared.

Craig nearly squeaked when Rick gathered him up on their front porch, his big arms wrapping around the smaller man's shoulders in a tight squeeze. The blond stiffened up like a board at first, but eventually wrapped his arms around Rick's shoulders.

"Where the _hell_ have ya been?!" Rick demanded, not once letting him go, content to hiss into his hair.

Not that Craig minded in the least, he was just as happy pressing his forehead to the bigger man's collarbone, trying his hardest not to shake from a myriad of emotions, "I went to get something," he said, muffled by Rick's shirt.

Unable to hear, Rick pulled away, holding both of Craig's shoulders with a much more concerned look on his face, "Y'what?"

He held Craig's gaze for all of three seconds before the blond reddened and stared at the concrete, "I went to get something."

"Next time answer your goddamn phone! Scared me half t'fuckin' death!" Rick cried, shaking the smaller man by the shoulders.

"I didn't take it with me. Rick hold on, please—stop shaking me!" Craig finally put his foot down and pushed Rick's hands off of him.

Craig took on a very determined expression, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was all he could do to stop the nerves from jumping right out from his stomach. One of his hands tightened around something in his pocket.

"Listen, please. I went to the bank," he started, stopping to take a deep breath, "I took out all the money and went to get something."

While he spoke, Rick was trying his best to keep still. Listening wasn't an issue, but all of the anxious energy he'd stored up was making him fidgety. He noticed Craig's hands along with the story, he gave the blond something of a side-eye all while pondering just what this was. An apology, an official break—Rick realized he may have jumped the gun a little.

They both took a deep breath between them, Craig releasing his much slower before beginning again, "I just... want you to know. I kept that bank account because I thought it would make me feel safe. I was wrong, alright, and I'm sorry. Nothing has ever made me feel safer, no one has ever... has ever loved me like you do."

His eyebrows were drawn together and his mouth set in a distressed line. Something was off here, Rick wasn't dense.

"Sweetheart, it's-"

"Let me finish," Craig said with surprising firmness, "If anything tried to seem like it would make me feel safer, I don't want it. I want to prove that to you. I want to show you that I love you and I love you enough to trust you with everything."

He went quiet a moment and with shaking hands, pulled what he was holding out of his jacket pocket, gripping it tightly in his hand. Craig's breathing was unsteady and his other hand pulled out of its pocket to steady himself as he knelt on one knee in front of his long-time partner, reaching out to take his left hand. As shocked as Rick looked, he didn't pull away, staring at the blond in wonder.

"I can understand if you would say no, but...," he murmured, his voice nearly disappearing as he opened his hand to show Rick a wide band of silver sitting in his palm with a few small flashes of light that must have been diamonds, "W-Would y-you marry me?"

Poor Craig looked like he was about to faint where he knelt whereas Rick was still processing what he was saying. He wore a somewhat dopey smile, so Craig felt brave enough to slip the ring on his finger despite his unsteady hands. The grip on each other's hands was tight and Rick eventually pulled Craig off of the concrete. Always the man of action, he slipped his hands around Craig's jaw and yanked him forward for a crushing kiss. Caught off guard, the smaller man didn't react for a few seconds, finally standing on tiptoe to wrap his arms around Rick's neck.

Both gasped for air eventually, Rick dropped his hands to the blond's hips and squeezed gently, "Never in a million years did I ever think I'd be on this end of somethin' like that."

"I... assumed, which is why I won't mind if you don't accept," Craig said sheepishly, staring at the concrete again.  
A firm tug on his chin got him making eye contact again, "Hell, I'm just glad y'came back t'me in one piece, dammit. You could tell me y'need me to dig through the driest, most boring goddamn library in the his'try of anythin' and I'd do it right now."

Craig raised an eyebrow with a wry smile, "Is that a yes?"

"Yeah. Thought of losin' you is too much. Let's get hitched, why the hell not," Rick agreed with a mile-wide grin that threatened to split his face.

That's when the tears came. Happy, relieved tears, but waterworks either way. Craig's face buried right back into Rick's shirt and without letting go for a second, Rick picked him up and dragged him back into the house. Never was the blond more glad to just let him.

"It doesn't have to be a big ceremony," Craig murmured, both hands gripping the fabric of Rick's t-shirt.

Rick chuckled on the way up to their bedroom, "Oh no, babe, it's gonna be one helluva party."

"Invite the whole town then, I don't care," he said into his shoulder with a soft laugh.

The minimum was done to get ready to sleep for the night. Shoes were kicked off, Craig's glasses removed, and Rick's new engagement ring set carefully beside them. The sheets were pulled over them, clothes still on, but neither cared. All that mattered was they were still tangled in each others arms.

"We'll gab all 'bout it in the mornin'," Rick yawned as Craig wriggled his way under his chin, "In the mean time... welcome home."


End file.
